Semi Realism

My mom wants me to report every single detail in my life to her every day. I only get to receive my allowance once I do so. One phone call is equivalent to me receiving one cent. "My dear daughter, I love you so much, you know. Just let me know whatever you're doing every day. Only then can I relax." I don't have the heart to let my mom down, so every day I put all of my effort into coming up with something. That way, I can only gather enough money to buy the cheapest food in the cafeteria. But the food isn't enough to sustain me, leaving me hungry every day. Finally, I break down emotionally. That is, until I receive an allowance from my dad, who's supposed to be dead for many years…

On my daughter’s birthday, I showed up at her after-school program unannounced to surprise her. When I mentioned to the instructor that I was Maddie’s parent, she furrowed her brows. “Are you saying that you’re Maddie’s mother?” I nodded, feeling a little displeased. Though her father, Matthew Rowe handled the drop-offs and pick-ups, the instructor had no business giving me an attitude. Nevertheless, the instructor promised to bring Maddie out right away with a huge grin. As she turned away, I decided not to make a big fuss out of the matter. The next minute, the instructor emerged with two burly men. “That’s her! She’s here to abduct one of the kids!”

I was the top repair specialist at a luxury goods store. Ninety percent of the shop's revenue came from my work alone. In three years, I turned a run-down little shop on the brink of closing into a nationwide chain. All because I clocked in two minutes late one morning, the newly appointed supervisor, Tom Menzie, locked the front doors and announced he was taking everyone on a company trip. I asked why no one bothered to tell me. Tom sneered, "Well, those who can do more are trusted with more. We're going on vacation. You stay and work overtime. If you can't handle it, then get the hell out!" I was so mad that I laughed. I called the owner directly. "I heard you're firing me."

Mom accidentally adds me into a group chat called "Happy Family". In the group chat, I saw Mom, Dad, and a stranger who's nicknamed "sweetheart". They are in the middle of organizing a birthday party for him. However, the thing is, tomorrow will be my birthday, which they have forgotten for the tenth time in a row. Mom says, "The venue must be dreamy. I want him to feel like an actual prince." Dad transfers a huge sum of money to "sweetheart". "Money is no problem! Just don't let Christopher find out about this. It'll screw things up for us!" I quietly take screenshots of everything, planning to find a chance to expose my parents' true colors and end everything with them once and for all. At that moment, my younger sister, who's always been great at her studies, sends me a screenshot via our private chat. It's a screenshot of the chat history between her and Mom. "Mom, have you made preparations for Christopher's surprise party yet? You promised me that this is the last time you'd lie to him!"

I, Lilian Newton, am the top luxury goods repair specialist. 90 percent of the store's revenue comes from me. Three years on the job, I turn a little shop that nearly goes bankrupt into a nationwide chain. Just because I am two minutes late to work, the new manager locks the front door and plans to take the staff on a trip. I ask her why I was not informed. She scoffs and says, "The capable should do more work. We are going on a trip. You stay behind to work overtime. If you can't handle it, then get lost!" I laugh in exasperation and call my husband right away. "I hear you're planning to fire me. Is that it?"

I was diagnosed with cancer. After much deliberation, I called my husband. He fell silent for a long while. “Most of our mortgage is unpaid, and our children need money for school. You should go for conservative treatment.” I called my mother while weeping. “You’re so troublesome. None of my friends or family have cancer!” I stopped crying and started living for myself. God favored me and let me see reality early in my life. He even gave me a chance to start over.

My daughter Stella was dying—kidneys shot, barely hanging on. She needed a transplant. Fast. But my wife, Kylie—the hospital director—stole the donor kidney meant for Stella and handed it off to her old flame's kid instead. That boy lived. They celebrated. Played happy family while my daughter was bleeding out hope. That same day, I called Kylie. Told her Stella didn't have much time. All she said was, "That ungrateful brat's faking it again? Lying? If she wants to die, let her." Stella didn't make it. Her body gave out in the worst way. And when Kylie finally saw her—really saw her—she broke.

The day I found out I was a match for my dad—stage four leukemia—I bailed. Mom tore the world apart looking for me, but yeah, she had to watch him go. After that, she drowned herself in research, built a name, even adopted this perfect little angel. We crossed paths again at some fancy leukemia conference she was hosting. I was on the demo table. She took one look and scoffed. "Charlotte Stein, not the time for your crap. Get up and go." The host blinked, stunned. "Dr. Cooper... you know this cadaver?" She actually laughed. "What, she paid you for this stunt?" The host turned ghost-white. "M-Miss Stein passed three days ago..."

At the annual company raffle, I had barely stepped onto the stage when my supervisor, Lily Smith, pressed a crumpled slip of paper into my palm. "A special reward for our top salesperson," she chirped. "Go ahead, open it. Let everyone see." Under the eager gaze of the crowd, I unfolded the note. Written in messy handwriting were the words: Clean the company toilets for three days. The room erupted in laughter. Lily folded her arms, cocked her head, and smirked at me. "Nice, right?" she said. "Everyone knows those sales of yours came from sleeping with old men. Dirty money. To keep things fair, the others get a break, and you pick up a little extra work. You don't have a problem with that, do you?" The laughter surged again, nearly lifting the roof. From the side of the room, my boyfriend, Seth Hoffman, the company's CEO, watched everything unfold. As usual, he said nothing in my defense. They all thought I would fall apart, cry, or make a scene. Instead, I simply gave a calm nod. The very next day, the company was hit with over three hundred property cancellations. Its cash flow collapsed overnight. That was when Lily and Seth rushed to me, demanding I go plead with the buyers. I smiled and said, "No thanks. I wouldn't want to help the company recover and end up with strong numbers again. That might make everyone even more uncomfortable."

To take care of my paralyzed mother-in-law, I quit my job and spent three years as a full-time househusband. That day, after cleaning up her waste, I hid in the bathroom with a cigarette between my fingers and came across a post on my wife’s boss’ Instagram. [You’re meant to be with me in the end. Since that freeloader can’t give you happiness, let me take you to the paradise of Maldev.] Above the caption were two plane tickets. Someone commented below. [That homemaker husband of hers is definitely clinging onto her. After all, she’s his meal ticket.] The boss replied. [Don’t worry. Tonight she’ll go home and come clean. She’ll say the company was caught falsifying accounts and is facing massive fines, and that she might need to serve jail time. [To keep that guy from getting dragged into it, the only option is divorce. He’s as timid as a mouse and will take any chance to flee.] I stared at the screen, stunned, until the cigarette burned my fingers. Ten minutes later, my wife rushed home, panic written all over her face. She dropped her bag on the floor. “Honey, something’s gone wrong with the company’s finances. They’re accusing us of falsifying accounts. I was solely responsible for the accounts. I might need to serve 10 years in prison, plus fines of more than ten thousand dollars. “We need to sign the papers before they seize our house. I don’t want to drag you and mom into this.”